


Those Tempting Tentacles

by Anonymous



Series: Tentacular Temptation Series [6]
Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Premature Ejaculation, Sex Toys, Sex at work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There's no need for SpongeBob to be jealous, just because Squidward has had other partners before him, and they can give him things the sponge can't. Right?
Relationships: SpongeBob SquarePants/Squidward Tentacles, Squidward Tentacles/Larry the Lobster, Squilliam Fancyson/Squidward Tentacles
Series: Tentacular Temptation Series [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956436
Comments: 21
Kudos: 156
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Morning Workout Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied! The series isn't over after all. But now the story shifts focus a little bit and another character will show his face.

“That’s right, untighten those buttocks. And streeetch,” Larry sat on his yoga mat, leaning forward to show his pupils the proper stretching technique. One guy in the background must’ve overextended himself, Squidward thought, because he heard a snap and then a scream. “My leg!” Larry got up and ran over to help the man in pain. “And that’s why you don’t broadcast your show live,” Squidward said out loud to his TV while sipping his coffee. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

Larry the Lobster had a weekly workout broadcast on public television, and Squidward always got up early to tune in. In his head he called it his _Morning Workout Routine_. He would brew a cup of coffee and make breakfast while occasionally glancing over at the rippling pecs dancing across his TV screen. _I’ve touched them,_ he thought while biting into his toast, _they’re glorious._

Breakfast and ogling at Larry wasn’t the only reason to get up early on those days, though the lobster’s physique was the catalyst for what he had planned. Squidward ran himself a bath, unscrewing the cap from his bubble bath and sniffing the bottle. He nodded approvingly and poured the contents into the rising water, creating the most beautifully fragrant foam. He waltzed over to his bedroom closet and retrieved a box. His tentacle lifted the lid to reveal its precious contents: Squidward’s collection of mating toys, with his favorite piece sitting on top. He grabbed the blue rubber mating arm and a jar of petroleum jelly and skipped back to the bathroom while humming a tune.

Though Larry’s body had gotten him into the mood, it wasn’t his experiences with the lobster that he wanted to fantasize about. The guy was fun and all, but he was a bit lacking in the reproductive area for Squidward’s liking. Which was fine; he made up for it in other areas (lobsters loved their foreplay). But Squidward’s body demanded something more substantial right now. He dipped his tentacle in the jelly jar and coated the toy generously, making sure to get all the suckers covered, too. He then climbed into the bathtub, disappearing in the water among mountains of foam, holding the now slippery fake mating arm in his hand.

“Mmmh,” he pondered, holding the toy against his own erect and unsheathed mating arm, sliding the fake suckers against his real ones. How should he attach the suction cup to the bottom of the bathtub? Suckers facing away, so he could pretend to be taken from behind? Or facing him, like he was riding his lover? Eventually he plonked the toy down so it stood erect in the water, suckers facing him. _I’m going to give you the ride of your life,_ he thought.

Squidward held onto the lip of the bathtub, lowering himself onto the toy slowly. He was familiar enough with its shape to know exactly the angle to approach it with to sink down its whole length in one go. “Mother of pearl, that’s good,” he hissed as he started moving up and down the shaft.

He tried imagining last time he gave Larry a ride, but the fantasy was incongruous with his experiences; the guy just wasn’t that big, had no suckers massaging his insides, and was also very gentle for such a big lunk. For the same reason, he couldn’t make the fantasy work with SpongeBob. The boy was so sweet and so full of holes, and Squidward loved mating him. He even thought about him when he put his tentacle on himself. But it was not the release he was craving at the moment.

In moments like these Squidward would always revert to a well-worn fantasy that he knew would get him to a satisfying conclusion. He suctioned his hands and feet to the tub for purchase and started grinding down on the fake mating arm all the way down to the hilt. He moaned loudly. There was a former lover who always took him like that, filling him up all the way, making Squidward feel like he’d been punched in the stomach with every hard thrust.

“Squilliam, you arrogant piece of fish…” he moaned under bated breath, moving even faster, water splashing over the edge of the tub. He stroked his mating arm in time with his thrusts. He was very close now.

That’s when Squidward heard the toilet flush. He went still and his eyes shot open; SpongeBob, in a maid outfit, was standing on top of the toilet tank. By trying to reach the shelf above it he had accidentally stepped on the handle, activating the flush. “Whoops. Morning, Squidward.”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Squidward yelled. How long had SpongeBob been in the bathroom? Had he heard him moan? Thankfully, the foam on top of the water blocked the sight of anything untoward happening below it.

“Just dusting the shelves.” SpongeBob retrieved a box of powdered sugar and sprinkled the contents all over Squidward’s miniature soaps and spare razor blades.

“That’s not how dusting works!” Squidward, decidedly not in the mood anymore, lifted himself off the mating arm. He tried to keep the movement and his pained hiss as imperceptible as possible. He really hoped SpongeBob hadn’t heard him moan earlier. _Did I say Squilliam’s name out loud?_

“But what about the crepes we made last week? You dusted those with sugar, too. It was delicious. Mwah!” He kissed Squidward on the nose. The octopus grabbed the offending lips.

“Go home and get ready for work. I’m going to do the same now. Is that understood?” Frustrated with the sponge’s antics, he stretched his lips out and let them go, watching them snap back into his neighbor’s face.

“Okay, Squidward…” SpongeBob trundled out of the bathroom and out of the house, head hung low. Squidward noticed the knee-high stockings the sponge was wearing when he watched him leave. He had no sympathy for the little guy. That pervert knew about Squidward’s _Morning Workout Routine_ and was hoping something would happen between them if he came over wearing a suggestive outfit. The maid costume was a bit on the nose for Squidward, too tacky for him to be excited by it. “Dusting the shelves…” What a bizarre excuse to make his way into the bathroom.

SpongeBob hadn’t been wrong; the octopus had been in a mating mood. But ironically it was the sponge who had stopped it dead in its tracks. Squidward plucked the toy off the bottom of the bath and rinsed it off, making sure to get in the spaces between the suckers, and throwing it in the sink to dry. Then he drained the bath and washed up; it was time to get ready for work.

When he was washed and dressed, and the toy was back in its box in the closet, he adjusted his mating arm in his pouch one last time before he stepped out. SpongeBob was already waiting for him at the other end of his walkway. Luckily the sponge had changed into his usual square pants. Squidward picked up the newspaper lying on his doormat and slowly made his way towards his ecstatic looking neighbor. “You ready to get going?” Squidward asked.

“I’m ready!” And they made their way to work together. Squidward at his usual, comfortable speed, while the sponge skipped ahead and then returned when he’d run too far, like an excited worm puppy out for walkies. Some days SpongeBob would walk at Squidward’s pace, when they were holding hands on their way to work; that only happened when Squidward was in an apologetic mood, maybe he’d been too harsh to the little guy the day before and was trying to make up for it. In other words, it almost never happened.

One time, Mister Krabs had seen them walk into the Krusty Krab hand in hand. Squidward had noticed the old crab glancing over at them while sitting at a table, counting the money in the cash drawer like he did every morning before handing it to Squidward. As SpongeBob had hopped into the kitchen without a care in the world, Mister Krabs and Squidward had squinted at each other.

“Mister Krabs,” the octopus had nodded in greeting.

“Mister Squidward,” he’d handed over the cash drawer for Squidward to put into the machine. As his tentacles had tried to pluck it from his claws, Mister Krabs was still holding onto it.

“Be careful with it,” his boss had said, both him and Squidward holding the square box. “You know it can be very... fickle, if you don’t treat it right. Goes insane a bit.”

Squidward had known that Mister Krabs hadn’t been talking about the drawer at all. “I know how to take care of it, you know that, Mister Krabs. I've handled it for years.”

“If it doesn’t work, it can’t make me money, is all I’m sayin’.” Squidward had rolled his eyes. Of course, it wasn't about SpongeBob's well being, it was all about money with the old skinflint. Then Mister Krabs had surprised him. “But, y’know, you have my blessing. Congratulerations!” And with that he had scurried into his office. Squidward had stood there for a full minute, dumbstruck. Had Mister Krabs just congratulated him on dating SpongeBob?

“Well, as long as we have your blessing,” he’d mumbled to himself sarcastically as he shoved the drawer into the register. But he had been oddly relieved by his boss’ words. “We have his blessing!?!?” Squidward’s ears had rung from the sponge's thrilled exclamation. “Oh, Squidward, I’m so happy!”

* * *

And here they were, back at the Krusty Krab; another day at work, another migraine from listening to the customers chewing with their mouths open. Except today, on top of his usual headache, Squidward had come to work riled up in the strangest way. Unable to finish what he’d started in the tub this morning he hadn’t been able to leave his fantasies at home. Unwanted thoughts of Larry’s pecs against his tentacles and Squilliam harshly yanking him onto his mating arm were still ghosting through his head, but now they were combined with guilt. Usually he would wash all the guilt off in the shower, and he was ready for the day to start. But SpongeBob had messed up his routine completely, as was to be expected.

Squidward squirmed in his seat as he tried to subtly adjust himself in his pouch; he hated this. When he finally found distraction in his newspaper, he heard a yell coming from the kitchen. “Squidward! Come, quickly!”

He threw down the paper and ran into the kitchen – was it a grease fire? Had the dish washer exploded?

“Oh, hi, Squidward! You’re tall.” SpongeBob said biting his lips, sounding like the captain of the cheerleading team who was determined to lose her virginity this prom night because her and the quarterback were destined to be together and were totally getting married after he came back from college; he sounded flirtatious and horny. “Can you help me get something off the high shelf in the pantry?”

“Okay?” Squidward followed his coworker into the walk-in pantry, confused. The only things they stocked at the very top were the spare steel wool pads for scouring pans. Why would SpongeBob need those in the middle of a shift while the pans were still in use?

“Wait a minute,” Squidward said as he followed SpongeBob into the pantry. “You're taller than me when you extend your legs. You can get that stuff yourself.” As that moment, the door swung closed behind him, and SpongeBob stopped directly in front. The octopus was now sandwiched between his coworker, and the exit.

“Oh, whoops,” SpongeBob said before dropping the pantry key on the floor. “Let me pick that up.” He bent down to retrieve the key, his behind pressing firmly against Squidward’s front. Squidward, already unusually sensitive from this morning, gasped at the sensation. That tricky sponge.

“It’s stuck between the floorboards, let me try and get it.” SpongeBob moved his rump up and down, rubbing Squidward’s abdominal slit. The octopus’ eyes crossed and he grabbed the only thing available to him in his position; SpongeBob’s hips. The boy knew exactly what he was doing to Squidward. But he could play along. “You better find that key, Sponge. Faster!”

“Right, Squidward,” and the sponge picked up the pace. He had given up the pretense completely and only concentrated on grinding against his partner. He now made full use of his extendable limbs, stretching his arms to lean against the floor boards, and stretching and retracting his legs to make his rear slide up and down the mating arm that was still encased in its pouch.

Squidward’s libido was confused; he enjoyed what was happening but was uncomfortable with _where_ it was happening. Mister Krabs could come in any second and- he felt the knock on the door between his shoulders.

“Boyos?” Squidward climaxed at that moment. The old man’s claw banging against the door had scared it out of him. “Are ye in there? The customers are waiting for someone to take their orders and make their food.”

“Oh dear,” SpongeBob said, standing back up from his lurid mating position, but Squidward paid him no mind. He had just spilled his seed in his pouch, at work, and his boss had almost caught him. He opened the door and ran past Mister Krabs. “Be right back at the register, Mister Krabs, after my bathroom break!” His front squelched with every step; he hurried into the bathroom and locked himself into the closest stall.

What had gotten into that little sponge? Squidward asked himself as he tore a few pieces of toilet paper from the holder to clean himself up. He hated it when he came inside his pouch. He had to lift the flap and dab the fluid away while trying not to graze his sensitive mating arm. It was tedious cleanup after an unsatisfying ending.

Squidward was in a sour mood when he returned to his post, and so were the customers. He couldn’t catch a break for the next two hours before the rush had died down again and he could finally take a seat as SpongeBob prepared the last of the burgers. He tried to grab his newspaper from under the bench where he had left it, but it was gone.

“SpongeBob? Have you seen my paper?” he asked while looking on the floor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That was an odd answer for such a simple question. He could’ve just said no. “I don’t even know what paper is.” Squidward lifted his head and squinted through the window at SpongeBob suspiciously. His coworker was sweating nervously, and it wasn’t from the hot grill.

“Give it back.” He said through gritted teeth. The sponge was getting on his nerves today.

“You know, y-you shouldn’t be reading at work anyway. Mister Krabs wouldn’t like that if he heard.” Was… was the sponge threatening to tattle? What was going on?

“SpongeBob,” Squidward said in a calm tone. He rubbed his temples with both tentacles as he talked. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I will close my eyes and outstretch my hand, and magically my lost paper will appear in said hand. I will then read the paper, and you will live to see another day. You got that?”

The sponge gulped and then nodded.

“Good. Here we go.” He closed his eyes and offered his hand to his coworker. He felt the rolled up paper land in his hand and grabbed it. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” But he didn’t wait for the sponge’s answer, turning around to sit down and opening the pages where he last left off.

There were pages ripped out.

“SpongeBob, what is the meaning of this?” He looked back at the fry cook, who was now chewing vigorously. “MY PAGES!” Squidward yelled as he dove threw the window and tackled the sponge onto the ground. He wouldn’t have cared so much, if not for his friend’s strange behavior. He recognized the advances in the pantry earlier for what they were now; a distraction so he wouldn’t read whatever the sponge was chewing.

“You’re insufferable!” Squidward held the sponge down, punched his whole fist into the his mouth and retrieved his tongue, like a karate master plucking the still beating heart from his lifelong enemy. “Blaaaaaah!” SpongeBob said, his tongue covered in chewed-up paper.

The pages were completely illegible, but there was one thing Squidward recognized: a picture of Squilliam Fancyson, sitting in his fancy chair at his fancy house, wearing his fancy blazer.

SpongeBob tried to speak, but Squidward was still holding his tongue. The octopus let go of the sponge and his tongue rolled back into his mouth like a party blower. He spent the next few moments spitting papier-mâché.

“I’m sorry, Squidward. I saw there was a picture of him in your paper and I was trying to spare you.” _Spare me?,_ Squidward thought. “I just didn’t want you to get mad.”

“Well, mission failed!” Squidward huffed. He couldn’t believe the guy. Seducing Squidward just so he wouldn’t read the paper and get mad. Who used mating to manipulate people like that? _You do, Squiddy old boy, all the time_ , a tiny voice said inside Squidward’s head, but the thought was stomped out by his anger.

“I’m going back to my side of the wall and we’re going to talk about this later.” Squidward didn’t want to talk about it later, or ever. This was not the kind of annoyed he wanted to be with SpongeBob; the complicated kind that involved feelings, and ex-lovers. He plopped down on his bench and looked around. The chewing masses hadn’t even noticed their fight at all.

Squidward heard a small “Sorry…” squeaking from the direction of the kitchen, but he ignored it and pulled out his shell phone. You could get the news on those little things, nowadays, no need for papers. And maybe he was a little bit curious why Squilliam was in the news. _Maybe he’ll want to meet with me and we can make Sponge squirm with jealousy,_ Squidward thought, then immediately regretted it. He would never do such a thing, even thinking it made him feel guilty. The sponge was already insecure about his past lover. He had probably heard him moan his name that morning… no wonder he was jealous!

Ah, there, he had found the article. When he clicked the link and the headline loaded, Squidward’s eyes grew wide. When he started scrolling and reading through the paragraphs, his face turned ashen. “I- I. I gotta call him,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” SpongeBob leaned over the window, talking in a tentative voice, in case the octopus was still in a bad mood. He saw his friend’s pale face. “Are you alright, Squidward?”

“I have to make a call,” Squidward said matter of factly, neither happy nor mad, just informing the sponge as he dialed a number. Squidward’s two left legs were bouncing nervously as he waited for the call to go through. SpongeBob heard the call go straight to an answering machine; that’s when Squidward snapped his phone shut and jumped up to stand.

“Cover for me!” Squidward plopped his hat on the top of SpongeBob’s head. “I have to go to the hospital.”

“The hospital!?” SpongeBob yelled. “Are you okay?”

“Cover for me!” Squidward repeated as he ran out of the door.

The door to the manager’s office opened and Mister Krabs emerged. He only got to see the door to the Krusty Krabs swing shut as the octopus dashed away. “Where is Mister Squidward off to?” He wanted to sound angry, but SpongeBob looked so alarmed that it had startled him as well.

SpongeBob adjusted the second hat that just got haphazardly placed on his head. “Er, I’m covering for him?” was all he could say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you liked it!


	2. Silly Squilly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squidward's visit to an old frenemy in his hour of need.

Squidward had to run home first to get his bike, then rushed into town. By the time he made it to the hospital his legs were burning with the exertion. He was still out of breath when he found the counter.

“I’m… I’m here to see Squilliam Fancyson?” The article had said he had been in the hospital since the day before, and that his upcoming show at the opera house had been postponed, but made no further comments on what had been wrong with the man. He hoped he was in a state where Squidward was allowed to see him.

“Ah, yes. You his brother?” the fish behind the counter asked, bored. Squidward just nodded; they’d always gotten that question when they’d been a couple, and Squidward had despised it. Of course, they looked like brothers to all fish; they thought all Pacific octopuses looked the same. But right now the assumption could get him into Squilliam’s room, so he didn’t argue.

“This is the room number,” she handed him a piece of paper. “So many people in and out of there today,” she continued. _Figures,_ Squidward thought. Squilliam had always been popular, he was probably surrounded by friends right now. Which meant he was healthy enough to have visitors. Squidward suddenly felt stupid for overreacting the way he did. He had left work with no explanation and run red lights to come here!

Squidward wasn’t Squilliam’s friend, but he wasn’t a stranger, either. He needed to see if his fellow octopus was alright. Now that Squidward had calmed down, he mapped out a simple plan; walk in, preferably when other well-wishers were in the room, too, so the awkward pauses between him and Squilliam would be filled with the ramblings of his vapid followers. Once he’d made sure that Squilliam was fine, he would leave.

When Squidward found the door and walked in, there was an old man with a sickly green face sitting in the hospital bed, glasses on, reading a book. “Sorry, wrong room!” Squidward turned around and compared the piece of paper in his hand with the number on the door. He made to walk back to reception to complain that they’d told him the wrong door.

“Squiddy!” Only one person said his name in that tone. He turned back around, the old man had put his book down and his glasses hung on a chain around his neck. He was smiling at Squidward.

“Oh…. H-hi. Squilliam.” Squidward stared.

“Oh, bother. Do I look that horrid?” Squilliam held his tentacles to his face. They were yellowed, making his skin look sick and green, instead of a healthy turquoise. The black circles under his eyes made him look so tired.

Squidward tried and failed not to look panicked. “No! Nonono. No.” He didn’t know how to rectify the situation with a compliment. Squilliam truly looked horrid.

“No matter. Come, sit down, old chap.” Squilliam pointed at a chair next to his bed. Squidward had to wrestle through get-well bouquets, good-health balloons and well-wishing teddy sea bears to make it to Squilliam’s side.

“You had a lot of visitors then?” Squidward shook a rogue greeting card lose from his tentacles.

“Heh, not at all, except for the delivery men. A lot of gifts from my adoring fans, naturally.” He gestured around the room. Squidward rolled his eyes; he had to brag about his fans, he could never help himself with that. “But you’re my first visitor.”

That surprised Squidward. He was banking on the fact that other people would be here when he arrived, even before the receptionist had said anything. What happened to the gaggle of fish that always followed Squilliam around? They couldn’t be bothered to be there when their friend was sick? _Sycophants_ , Squidward thought in disgust.

“So, tell me, how are you these days?” Squilliam inquired, politely folding his arms.

“How am _I_!?” That question brought Squidward back to the matter at hand. “How are _you_ , Squilliam? You’re the one in hospital! What happened!?” He had blurted out the words before he could wonder if that was an intrusive question. Not that they had ever been mindful of each other’s feelings.

“Hah, Squiddy, no filter on that mouth of yours, as always!” He laughed, that annoying, nasal lockstep of a laugh, but it sounded much more reedy and weak. When Squidward didn’t say anything back, his face sobered.

“I’m fine, honest. It’s nothing chronic, or fatal. So you can stop scowling at me.”

“Okay?” That still didn’t answer Squidward’s last question. He knew from years of experience that sometimes, if you wanted a straightforward answer from Squilliam, you had to get it out of him with oppressing silence. Exactly the thing that Squidward hated, too. But it was his only option now. He stared at Squilliam, who was staring right back. To an outside observer, it looked like two friends sitting together in silence. In reality it was a battle of the minds, and Squidward was not going to leave until he’d won.

Squilliam sighed. He looked down at his tentacles as he started talking, not meeting Squidward’s eyes anymore. “I might have had a bit too much to drink than is tolerable with my medication. But I called the hospital as soon as I started feeling woozy and they got to me in time. I know what you’re going to say, but I implore you not to yell-”

“PILLS!? REALLY!?” The words were followed by a string of dolphin sounds as Squidward shot up from his chair and paced through the room, punching balloons out of his path. He was absolutely livid. He hadn’t been this mad since… well, Squidward frequently got mad. But he hadn’t been upset in this particular way since years and years earlier, when Squilliam had done the exact same thing to land himself in a hospital bed. This was the worst-case scenario. Squidward had feared that it might’ve happened again, but his brain hadn’t dared put those fears into concrete thoughts, that’s how much he had dreaded the possibility.

Squidward was ready to bite the head off one of the stuffed bears when a nurse popped her head in. She was about twice as tall as the men in the room and three times the size, her square chin and stubble making her look more like a prison warden than a health care professional. “Everything alright in here?”

“Splendid, nurse Bazooka. Thank you for checking in, my dear!” Squilliam beamed at her. Squidward rolled his eyes; Squilliam had always flirted with every skirt in a five nautical mile radius, even though he was hardly ever interested. He just liked their reactions.

“Well, it is my job,” she blushed and looked away bashfully. _Yeah, that reaction,_ Squidward thought. She checked a box on her chart and nodded goodbye before leaving. Squidward noted the chart with suspicion.

“What was that?” He put the stuffed toy back down and pointed in the direction of the door that the nurse had just closed. At first, he had thought she’d checked on them because of his yelling, _but that chart_. “Are you on watch?”

“Not permanent watch!” Squilliam exclaimed in his defense. The last time this had happened, Squidward remembered a nurse sitting in the corner of the room the whole time, observing Squilliam’s every move. When her shift was over she would make a check mark on her chart and hand it over to the night nurse. That had been permanent watch. To make sure Squilliam didn’t… try anything. “She checks in with me every hour. It’s a formality.”

Liquid anger streamed from Squidward’s eyes. “You’re quite something, you know that? How can you downplay all of this?” He punched another balloon even though it was not in his way. “Look at you, you look like a ghost! An old, old man ghost.”

“I am an old man!” All the finesse and play had escaped Squilliam’s voice. He was talking the way he used to when he got mad for real. “Guess what, so are you!”

“Hmph,” Squidward crossed his arms and looked away. Squilliam was coughing now from the shouting he had just done. And coughing and coughing. Squidward sighed and found an empty glass among all the flowers and cards; he filled it up in the sink and walked back to sit down next to the bed. Squilliam wordlessly took the glass from Squidward’s hand and started drinking. His throat was still sore from getting his stomach pumped. Squilliam hadn’t told him that, Squidward just knew from last time.

“We’re not that old. Not old enough to mess up our medication, anyway.” In fact, Squidward didn’t take any pills at all. He was more of a tea-heals-all kinda guy. Maybe he’d pop an aspirin on weekends on which his neighbors were extra loud and annoying.

“My psychiatrist prescribed me something, to sleep. Slumber has evaded me since father died.”

Squidward hadn’t known. “I’m sorry,” he offered. He remembered how complicated that father-son relationship was. Or rather, he remembered how Squilliam avoided it his whole adult life. But Squidward had witnessed their tense relationship first-hand from childhood on. His developing high-schooler brain had assumed that’s just how dads were; cold and distant and shifting the mood in every room they entered to unease; it had made young Squidward glad he didn’t have a dad at home. Once the two octopuses were older and had moved in together, if Squidward ever mentioned the father at any point, Squilliam would shut him down and tell him he didn’t need to waste a thought on the old codger, because he sure didn’t. Which was a lie.

“You remember back in highschool when I came over almost every other day to stay at your house?” Squidward asked, and Squilliam nodded. “House” was putting it mildly, though. “Mansion” would’ve been a better word to describe the former Fancyson estate. He would have dinner with Squilliam and his parents, the family sitting around the table ignoring each other as the serves brought the food. Afterward the boys would disappear in Squilliam’s room where they would play video games and drink sodas, then the maid would come in with snacks, and they ate and drank and played until they felt sick. Squidward never sat down for dinner with Mama as a kid, in fact him and his mom hadn’t even owned a dinner table. “I’d sit at dinner with you and your mom and dad, and think, ‘So that’s what a family looks like’,” Squidward said.

Squilliam put down the empty glass and started laughing like a pirate, almost triggering another coughing fit. “You’re too funny for words.” Squidward wished he could ask the guy what the deal was with his parents. Squilliam didn’t talk to his mother anymore, either, and he had never gotten an answer as to why that was. “You know what, Squiddy, I thought the same thing when I looked at you and Mama. ‘Now there’s a family.’”

The days they weren’t at Squilliam’s, they would go to Squidward’s. School was out before Mama was home from work, so Squidward would whip up something to eat in the kitchenette, with Squilliam watching him like he was a wizard conjuring up meals by magic. “You can help, you know?” “And ruin a perfectly delicious meal made by Chef Squiddy? Not a chance.”

Then they would eat in his room, leaving a plate of food in the kitchen for Mama, and they’d study and practice for band because Squidward had no video games or soda, and when Mama came home she would come in and thank Squidward for the delicious food, bringing them glasses of juice stretched with water, and kissing them both on their foreheads and calling them “my studious boys”.

“Yeah, I guess,” Squidward conceded to Squilliam.

“I always loved Mama,” Squilliam smiled. “How is she doing?”

Squidward rolled his eyes. “She’s fine.”

After Mama would leave his room, teen Squilliam would always have a comment ready about how hot Squidward’s mother was. He eventually started to talk of her as “Mama”, instead of “your mom”. Even when they grew up and became a couple it had been an ongoing joke for him that he’d never let go, referring to her as the real love of his life. And the most horrifying part; Mama had been just fine with his flirty comments. “Oh, silly Squilly,” she’d say and chuckle to herself.

 _Now there’s a family,_ that’s what Squilliam had thought of him and Mama. So Squilliam had claimed it like a stray snail claiming his territory, and made himself part of it, until it had outlived its usefulness and he’d moved on.

But for a bit, Mama and Squidward and Squilliam had been a family. Who needed an opulent dining table in a palatial estate when you had each other? Squidward wanted to gag at that sickly-sweet thought. It did not neutralize his bitter mood, though.

“So how many sleeping pills did the shrink tell you to take? They don’t perform a gastric suction for one pill.” His voice was breaking at the end of the sentence, but pretended it was a cough. Squilliam didn’t let him get away with it, though.

“Oh no, did my actions hurt your _pwecious wittle feewings_? Sue me.” Squilliam sounded twice as bitter as him. He didn’t deny that the hospital had to pump the pills and drink out of his stomach, though. “You know I was actually happy when I saw you walk in? I haven’t seen you in ten years.”

 _Wow. Really?_ Squidward wondered. They really _were_ old, if ten years flew by like that.

“Anyway, you have successfully checked in on me. I’m alive!” he threw his hands in the air and wiggled them around in a comical dance, like that was the ultimate proof he was still among the living. “You may leave.”

“You’re being a real duck, you know?” It was a dire situation when Squidward started using avian insults. “I’m not leaving.” He scooted his chair closer to the bed and put his tentacle on Squilliam’s. Barnacles, his skin felt even thinner and drier than it looked, and it was so green, like his liver was shot. “Do you need a transplant?”

“Why, are you offering?” Squilliam wiggled his glorious eyebrow at him. “I told you I’m fine. This is all temporary.”

“And you have someone at home, once you’re released?” That was the question the nurse had asked them the first time this happened. Back then, Squidward had been the “someone at home”.

“You my doctor?” Squilliam tried to evade the question again, so Squidward just glared at him. It did the trick. “My ex-wife is going to be there.”

Wow. It really had been ten years, hadn’t it? Enough time for a whole marriage to grow and decay without Squidward noticing at all. And to a woman no less. Squidward had questions about that, but this wasn’t the time. “She’ll take good care of you?”

“The best! The only reason she isn’t here is because she’s waiting for the repair man at home, for the door.” He looked away quickly as he realized what he had just said. They had to break the door down, to get him. Because he was unconscious and alone. Last time, Squidward had found him and was there to open the door for the emergency services. What if Squilliam hadn’t managed to call the hospital in time? Would Squidward have read his obituary in the papers instead?

“Also, I told her not to come. I didn’t want her to see this.” He looked down himself, pale, frail looking, his hospital gown crumpled.

Squidward felt bad for calling him an old man earlier. He cared a lot about his looks, more than Squidward did, even, and he’d kicked him while he was down. “You mean you didn’t want to share your ravishingly handsome figure with her?”

That made Squilliam smile. “You’re a card.” His tentacle squeezed Squidward’s.

And that was all it took. Squidward climbed onto Squilliam’s lap, kissing him on the mouth. Squidward hated tongue kisses, but he needed to be as close as possible right now. Squilliam was holding onto his shoulders and kissing him back, his shaky arms showing Squidward how weak he really was. His mouth tasted acrid like stomach acid, his tongue was dry and sour. And yet Squidward didn’t want this moment to end.

Once he was out of breath, he parted his mouth from Squilliam’s but remained on the bed, straddling his ex-lover, holding his head against his chest.

“You’re the card,” Squidward retorted lamely. The octopus he was holding had hurt him more than anybody else in his life, but right now Squidward couldn’t think of any harsh words for him. He wanted to ignore all the bad memories and let only the warm feelings he had for this man wash over him. It was frighteningly easy to do.

“Alright, alright, you old sea horse,” Squilliam patted him on the back and lifted his head from Squidward’s chest. “Do you want the nurse to walk in on us like this?” Squidward didn’t care what the nurse thought, but he understood that Squilliam was asking him to let him go. Had they still been together, during their salad days, Squilliam’s tentacle would’ve found its way between Squidward’s legs by now. Squilliam made no such move, his hands firmly staying on Squidward’s shoulders, not pushing him away but keeping him at a distance. Squidward got off the bed and pulled his shirt back down as it had ridden up during the kiss.

“You’ll call me if you need anything.” Now that he wasn’t on top of him anymore Squidward felt awkward standing next to Squilliam. Next to this old hospital patient with the blood-shot eyes who was someone’s ex-husband. Did Squidward even know this man?

“What would I need from you?” Squilliam asked. There it was. He always managed to be a little bit too nasty, and with so few words! It was quite impressive. If one multiplied that remark by a hundred, uttered each day, every day, for years, one would get a very exhausting and explosive relationship. Squidward was glad to be done with that chapter of his life. But they used to work well as friends, back in school, right? Before mating made everything complicated?

“We should hang out more,” Squidward declared as he prepared to leave. He didn’t want it to be another ten years before they saw each other. Even though he didn’t know what they would do if they met up as adult friends. Drink watered-down juice at Mama’s house?

“We should, but we won’t.” Squidward could’ve taken this answer as another insult, but Squilliam smiled defeatedly as he said it, like it was an inevitability, not a jab. He was right, of course. “Have a good life, Squiddy.”

“Yeah…” Squidward had just wanted to say goodbye, until next time. Why did this feel like a farewell instead? “You, too.” He slinked out of the room. When he looked back Squilliam had already put his glasses back on, peering into his book as if Squidward had never been there at all. He closed the door quietly and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long time coming, I wanted to write Squilliam and his stupid face into the story for a long time now. Tell me if you liked it!


	3. Candy and Confetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Squidward returns he has to explain himself to SpongeBob. But how does one explain an individual as complex as Squidward?

Squidward looked at the big hospital wall clock as he stepped outside. He could still make it back to work for a couple of hours, tell the last customers to get out and do the daily cash count before going home. He would have to explain to his boss and his coworker where he had been, of course. His coworker, who was also his friend and boyfriend - sort of, kind of, you know, they had a thing going – and his boss, who had blessed their… whatever it was, like he was a proud father.

Squidward went to the mall instead. After restlessly moving from window to window for a while his feet pulled him to the grocery store. Maybe he could make something nice to eat today. Maybe if he made something great, it would be so delicious that SpongeBob would forget to ask him what by the mother of all pearl was wrong with him. Squidward found himself stare at a label of canned bread for minutes when he realized he didn’t feel like cooking at all. He bought some frosted Kelp Flakes and jellyfish milk instead. By the time he made it back to his recumbent bicycle the sun was hanging low in the sky. He hung the grocery bag on the back of his bike. _I hate Kelp Flakes,_ he thought. _What am I doing?_

On the ride home the wave of guilt truly washed over Squidward. He’d run away from work with no explanation and left the sponge behind to wonder what was going on, and for what? So he could go make out with his ex? Squidward had SpongeBob now, for shrimp’s sake! A sweetheart who only ever wanted to make him happy, even if two out of three attempts he would drive Squidward up the wall instead. The octopus was embarrassed; while visiting his ex-lover he had completely forgotten about the sponge; like he had travelled back in time, when it had been just him and Squilliam, and everybody else had just played minor roles in the overdramatic soap opera that was their life.

The sponge didn’t deserve this - so Squidward would just not tell him. He didn’t have to make this SpongeBob’s problem, he would just keep it a secret and let it eat away at his insides until he died, like a normal person. Yes, that sounded like a plan.

When Squidward dismounted his bike and entered his monument, SpongeBob was already waiting for him on the sofa in the living room. Squidward hadn’t expected to see the sponge so soon. Usually they’d part ways after returning home from work and walk into their separate houses. SpongeBob because he needed time with his snail, Squidward because he needed time to himself. But today was not a normal workday, it made sense that the sponge wanted to see Squidward right away. Why couldn’t he have just called Squidward on the shell phone, though?

SpongeBob got up from the sofa, the floor covered in fingernail clippings from when he had bit them off nervously; he looked distraught. “Squidward, I called you on your shell phone!” Reading Squidward’s mind again, as per usual. The octopus took out his phone. Oh, crab juice, it was still on silent from his trip to the hospital. He’d been flooded with missed calls, most of them from SpongeBob, with one from Mister Krabs. “You said you had to go to the hospital and then you were gone! What happened?”

“I bought Kelp Flakes.” Squidward held up the grocery bag, smiling awkwardly. He was stalling for time, but he knew he’d have to give SpongeBob a credible explanation eventually.

“You… went to the hospital to buy Kelp Flakes?” SpongeBob was confused to the point of not knowing how to react. Squidward walked past the sponge into the kitchen; he put the milk in the fridge and the box of flakes in the cupboard. He then filled the kettle with water, anything so he didn’t have to look at his friend. The sponge kept talking, “But you were gone for your whole shift! What’s going on, Squidward?”

Squidward sighed defeatedly as he put the kettle on the stove. How was he supposed to answer that? This morning, Squidward had yelled his ex-lover’s name in the bath while touching himself, and Sponge might have heard it. After that there was the incident in the pantry at work, what he suspected was SpongeBob’s way of acting out on his jealousy and claiming Squidward for himself. Now he was back from visiting Squilliam. For completely unrelated reasons, but it was not a good look.

Squidward closed his eyes and shook his head, at himself. He had to bring out the big guns and speak from the hearts. He turned on the burner and turned around to face his partner.

“You know I love you, right, SpongeBob?”

That made the sponge blush a bright red, his distress turning into surprise. He didn’t hear Squidward say these words out loud often; he might’ve said it only once before. “Yes?” He closed his eyes and smiled. “I love you, too, Squiddy.”

Squidward’s lips twitched into a smile involuntarily; those words always came so easily to the sponge, even when he was (rightfully) upset with the octopus. But it made the next few words so much harder to say. “So, if you hear me, I don’t know, mention other people, you don’t have to worry, okay? It’s not based on anything happening in real life. You got that?”

SpongeBob’s blush lingered, but he looked confused now. “Not really, sorry.”

“I’m talking about the bath.”

“The bath?”

SpongeBob hadn’t noticed when he surprised him during alone-time this morning, then. “Oh. Nevermind. I just thought you heard… something, and got upset.”

“Heard what?”

Squidward groaned. He’d dug his own grave bringing up this topic, now he had to lie in it. “You know, I thought you heard that I think about… other people.” He wasn’t going to say his name. “When I…” he motioned his tentacle up and down instead of saying the words out loud.

“When you polish your clarinet?” SpongeBob tried to figure out what the octopus meant with his hand gesture.

“That’s an interesting way to put it.” Squidward contemplated. “But I was talking about this morning. In the bathtub.” SpongeBob had his thinking face on, then his eyes grew wide with realization.

“Oh! I see! Yeah, I heard you yell for Squilliam when you mated yourself.”

Squidward winced. How could the sponge say things like that in such a straightforward manner, with no hint of embarrassment? “And you’re not mad? That I said… someone else’s name?” He still couldn’t mention him, even though the name was out in the open now.

“No, I’m not mad! I think about other people all the time when I, er, clean my own instrument.” _Masterful use of euphemism_ , Squidward thought. _Well done._

“You do?” Squidward felt relieved SpongeBob did the same, then confused he didn’t feel jealous, then bad about wanting to feel jealous, then a little bit jealous, then relieved about feeling a little bit jealous. “Who do you think about?”

SpongeBob started counting on his hands. “You know, Patrick, Mister Krabs, Sandy, Larry, Mrs Puff, Mermaid Man, Barnacle Boy, Bubble Buddy,” Squidward’s eyes grew wider with every name, and SpongeBob’s hands grew extra fingers to keep counting, “the milk man, and newspaper man, the Krabby Patty bun delivery man, the mailman… not so much these days,” he looked at Squidward pointedly, who quickly looked away, so the sponge kept listing, “Gary-”

“GARY!?” Squidward’s head snapped back at SpongeBob. That was… Squidward didn’t know what that was. Probably some sort of crime.

“Yeah?” SpongeBob said, startled by Squidward’s yelling. “I think about everybody and everything that makes me happy.”

Squidward rolled his eyes when he realized what SpongeBob was saying; he was so innocent, he didn’t even think about mating while he was doing it to himself. His head just filled up with happy thoughts until he burst. He probably got off thinking about roller coasters and horsey rides. Squidward imagined his friend fiddling with himself until he exploded like a pinata filled with candy and rainbow confetti. That was probably exactly what happened. _Ridiculous._

“Whatever, weirdo,” Squidward said. He was used to getting away with his insults, SpongeBob hardly ever reacted to them. But the sponge must have taken it personally because he was red in the face again, but with embarrassment and anger, not affection.

“At least I don’t think about people I hate.” The remark was surprisingly harsh coming from the sponge. Maybe SpongeBob was jealous after all. If he couldn’t bear to think about the mailman Squidward had slept with, and wouldn’t let Squidward read about Squilliam in the paper, then something must be going on in the sponge’s little noggin.

“I don’t hate him.” Squidward retorted.

“You don’t?”

Squidward thought of the tired, lonely man he had visited in the hospital today, the one who’d smiled at him and said he was happy to see him. He didn’t hate that man at all. But there was also the monster who had manipulated him into feeling worthless for years so that he wouldn’t be confident enough to leave him, until _he_ suddenly left. He hated nobody more in the world. The hot jerk in his fantasies who negged him and roughed him up until he came, that guy he _loved_ to hate.

“It’s complicated. Remember when I told you I’m a mess? Well, that still applies!” He stormed out of the kitchen past the sponge again and onto the sofa, burying his face in his tentacles. “At least I don’t think about my pet snail when I touch myself, mother of pearl, I swear…” he mumbled into his suckers.

The water started to boil, the sharp, high whistle of the kettle penetrating Squidward’s head, but his face remained buried in his hands. He heard the sponge walk into the kitchen and turn off the burner; the noise calmed and Squidward felt the sofa dip next to him with the weight of his friend.

“Maybe we’re both weirdos,” SpongeBob said, leaning against him.

“At last, something we can agree on, SpongeBob.”

“So… where were you today?”

Ah, carp. The truth was not going to look good right now, right after talking about Squilliam, and how things were “complicated”.

“Er… the hospital. My friend was in there.” Squidward was stalling, but it was no use. The next question was going to be ‘Which friend?’ He couldn’t avoid it.

“You have friends?” Okay, so it wasn’t quite the question Squidward had expected.

“Yes, I do! Squilliam. He’s sick and I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

SpongeBob stared at Squidward. The octopus could not read his face. Was he in trouble? Were they going to fight?

“Well… is he okay?”

Squidward hadn’t expected that for some reason, he hadn’t thought SpongeBob cared. But of course he did, he was a good person who cared about people. Squidward wondered what it was like, being a good person. Exhausting, probably.

“Yeah, he’s fine. I think.” He hoped.

“And you’re fine, too, Squidward?” Now what was that supposed to mean? Why would Squidward not be fine? Was the sponge accusing him of something?

“I’m not gonna run back to that stuck up twat, if you’re worried about you and me,” Squidward retorted.

SpongeBob’s eyes grew wide, like he hadn’t even thought of that possibility. “I’m not worried about you and me, Squidward! I’m just worried about you!”

“If you do that, you’ll never catch a break from worrying. So don’t.” The sponge just stared at him. Oh, great, oh, fantastic! SpongeBob had learned how to use oppressing silence. How he wished he could hear they guy babble right now, so he could ignore him, but instead his huge, worried looking blue eyes were piercing right through him.

“I’m fine! Imfineimfineimfine! Okay!?” Squidward’s voice was pitched high as he yelled and waved his tentacles. “I left work because I thought Squilliam was in trouble, and only for that reason did I visit him. And I was right by the way, he was in trouble, he…” Squidward really didn’t want to bring up the pills. “He failed to take good care of himself. And I kissed him, because he looked sad, and that made me sad, so I kissed him. And I’m sorry. But I didn’t go to him because I was hung up on an old flame. That ship has long sailed. He’s not even the guy I used to be with. He’s got an ex-wife now and, like, reading glasses. My Squilliam didn’t need glasses to read. That man doesn’t exist anymore. He’s gone! He’s gone.” SpongeBob didn’t stop his ramblings, so when he had nothing more to say Squidward started to sob loudly.

SpongeBob hugged Squidward tightly, hot tears soaking into the sponge’s body. He patted Squidward’s back. “I’m here, I’m here,” he said as if to counteract Squidward’s last remark. And he really was there for Squidward, all the time. With his compassionate nature and his big heart. And his square face and his dumb teeth.

“You’re like a mermaid,” Squidward said a while later, after he’d calmed down.

SpongeBob grinned. “Pretty?”

“A mysterious sea creature that lured me in somehow and will be my death.” How dare the sponge make him confront his deepest ails, bring them to the surface in an effortless way that would make Squidward’s therapist jealous? The sponge had done nothing more than sit there and point out the obvious and that was all it took to make Squidward bawl. He looked into the sponge’s big, blue eyes. “Also, very pretty.”

“I’ll take that compliment!” SpongeBob was beaming at him.

“Will you take my apology, too?”

The sponge nodded vigorously. “I’m ready.” He put his little yellow hands in Squidward’s tentacles. “Go on.”

Aw, shrimp. Squidward had hoped the boy would just say “apology accepted” and move on. He squeezed the spongey hands while thinking of the words. “I’m sorry I left so suddenly without saying anything. He was in the hospital for a day already, it’s not as if I had to rush there and save him.” Although at the time, panic had set in as if that had been the case. The mention of a hospital in the article had triggered the memories in him, of coming home that evening to a dark house, no lights on, calling his lover’s name as he put his keys on the table, turning a corner into the bathroom, seeing a body lying limply on the ground, making gurgling sounds more reminiscent of an animal than a person… a squeeze from SpongeBob’s hands brought him back to reality. He was massaging circles into Squidward’s suckers. He continued, “I- I’m sorry I kissed him. That was stupid on so many levels.”

“Oh, Squiddy, you can kiss other people, I don’t mind.”

“What?” Squidward was almost offended by this casual attitude. Coming from the sponge who got jealous when he had talked to a woman on the bus, no less. “Are… is that what you’re doing?”

“No…” SpongeBob looked away but was still holding onto the octopus. “But I understand. Or… I’m trying to be understanding?” The sponge sounded unsure. “You want things I can’t give you. I don’t want to stop you from getting them. Like kisses. I don't like them.”

“Now that is a square-faced lie!” Squidward had blurted it out without thinking, it was so preposterous. The Sponge pecked him on the nose and cheek all day, every day, rubbing Squidward’s face raw with his lips.

“I mean adult kisses. Like they do in romantic movies.” Oh, right. Now that he thought about it, he and SpongeBob had never shared a romantic kiss on the mouth. Which was fine! He had just thought it was because of his own preferences, not SpongeBob’s.

“I don’t like those, either. And I don’t need them from anybody else!” Squidward sighed. “Can I plead temporary insanity on what happened today? I don’t want us to talk about it anymore.”

“My lips are sealed!” And SpongeBob zipped his mouth shut. How practical. _Can you do that at work, too, if I ask you to,_ Squidward thought, but didn’t say it out loud; he was in no position to be mean to the boy right now, even in a playful way. The sponge was being so protective and supportive. He was the sport’s bra of life partners.

SpongeBob then started squirming in his seat. Squidward knew exactly what was going on; the sponge had gone 5 seconds without talking and had something on his mind. The octopus conceded and unzipped the sponge’s lips. “Spit it out.”

The words came out rapid fire, like they’d been waiting for a starting shot behind his buck teeth. “You-can-still-mate-other-people-if-you-want-I-know-you-like-being-mated-I’ve-seen-your-toys-sorry.”

Squidward wordlessly zipped SpongeBob’s lips back shut, got up and walked upstairs.

“Mhpgh!” SpongeBob tried to yell through shut lips, before unzipping his mouth again. “Squidward? Squidward!” SpongeBob ran after him. “I’m sorry! I didn’t look for them, they were in your closet, and I knocked over the box, and-” he caught up to the octopus, who had made it to the bedroom with long strides and whose head had disappeared into the closet. He lifted a box from overhead and sat it down on the bed. “Yeah, that box,” SpongeBob confirmed, even though Squidward hadn’t said anything. He was busy putting another, bigger box on the bed. And a third one. SpongeBob just watched him, confused. “Er…”

Squidward removed the lids from the unassuming looking boxes and poured their contents on the mattress; toys in all shapes, sizes and colors fell out, some of them bouncing off the bed, but the octopus didn’t seem concerned about them. One rubber log bounced high and hit SpongeBob in the face. “Oof!”

“You see these things?” Squidward asked, pointing to the mattress covered in toys. “I don’t need other people’s mating arms for pleasure. I’m good!” He held two toys in the air like a cheerleader holding their pom-poms. He looked a bit manic and SpongeBob carefully took a step back.

“Of course, Squidward. You do you!” But SpongeBob couldn’t help himself and had to ask another intrusive question. “Is it the same? As with a person?”

 _No, it’s not the same,_ Squidward thought. It was good in a different way. That didn’t mean he wanted to be with someone other than Sponge, just because their crotch had to offer different attachments. “It’s fine. It’s great! Look.” He scoured about the mattress until he found one of his more advanced toys. The thick, jellyfish-pink rod was jiggling back and forth in his tentacle as he was gesturing with it for emphasis. “This one has gotten me off harder than any partner.” He threw the toy back onto the bed where it landed with a heavy thud.

“…alright.” SpongeBob didn’t seem happy with the answer but didn’t push it further.

“Agh!” Squidward yelled in frustration. Why wouldn’t the sponge get it in his holey head? Squidward wasn’t lying to him. Had the sponge never used a toy before? “Come here!” He used his legs to shovel a space free for the sponge to take a seat on the bed, toys tumbling on the ground. SpongeBob climbed on and sat down in front of Squidward.

The octopus’ eyes scanned the bed. He hoped the sponge didn’t mind the little experiment he was about to perform. He washed all his toys, but that didn’t mean the guy wanted to share. “Ah, yes, that should work.” He picked up one of the smaller plugs with his left tentacle. “Can I show you?” He pulled on the sponge’s shirt open and rubbed his right tentacle over the pore he thought would fit perfectly. SpongeBob’s eyes were already half-lidded just from those gentle ministrations. He nodded his consent.

Squidward quickly popped the toy in all the way to the hilt. SpongeBob cast his eyes down at his pore which was stopped shut now. Then he looked up at Squidward, his expression confused. This wasn’t like mating at all, or even like touching himself; he stored things in his body all the time, and it never made him squirm or tickle like his partner’s tentacles would. That’s when the octopus pressed the button at the bottom of the toy, and suddenly a jolt of utter bliss travelled up and down the sponge’s body.

“Iiiittt mmmoooovvvveeesss?” SpongeBob’s voice was vibrating with the toy, like he was talking into an oscillating fan. “Ffffeeeelssss ggrrrreeeaaaatttt!” His mouth fell open with pleasure, amplifying the constant _brrrrrrrrrrrrrr_ sound from the toy.

“I told you!” Squidward looked ecstatic and a bit insane. He was happy to prove that he was in the right, and a bit proud at the fact that he could make his partner squirm so easily. He pushed SpongeBob into the mattress and scrambled for a random toy without looking, then shoved it into the sponge’s front, pressing its button on as well. He did this with another toy and another, making the sponge yell every time he filled another hole. Had someone been outside their window, they would’ve sworn that they had witnessed a violent stabbing. But it was only Patrick asleep under his rock who heard the muffled screams that sounded like an ongoing murder and thought, _Must be Squidward and SpongeBob doing it,_ before he fell back asleep.

The sponge kicked his pants off to reveal more pores that weren’t filled yet. “Mmoooree!” The octopus watched SpongeBob grabbing more toys and sticking them into his sides. Some of them were not motorized and the sponge used his hands to maneuver them in and out of his holes. Now the boy got the idea! He used his feet to peel down his underpants with the same dexterity as if he had used his hands. SpongeBob was omnidextrous, Squidward thought. Just like an octopus.

Squidward collected the vibrating sponge into his lap, holding him in his arms, and used one of his lower tentacles to look for the perfect toy to put in his partner’s most sensitive pore; the one between SpongeBob’s legs. He found the apparatus by feel; a smooth, curved rod with a matte finish that he promptly inserted into his partner. When he turned it on, rather than to vibrate it made a pistoning motion, pushing the sponge against his chest as it moved in and out. “Ah! Ah! AH!”

SpongeBob held him tightly and pressed his whole front against Squidward’s. It was a strange sensation for the octopus, to feel all these different levels of vibration and pulses emanating from his partner’s body. One of the toys was pressed against his crotch, and before long there was clear, slippery fluid trickling out of his slit. He felt the build-up in his abdomen coming faster than his mating arm could stiffen. He managed to wedge his tentacle between him and SpongeBob and reached into his abdominal flap to let the head of his mating arm poke out. He didn’t want to climax inside his pouch a second time in one day. He grabbed his partner with all his arms and legs and fell onto his back, squeezing the sponge against his body. His seed shot out of his semi-engorged mating organ with three pulses and the deed was done. _You’re confusing my body today, sponge._

Suddenly SpongeBob let go off him, pushing himself away and into the middle of the bed. “Ooohhhh, Nnneeeppptttunne, ah! Ah! Ah!”

Squidward knew when his partner was about to reach the peak, he had seen the signs; the way his squirming and writhing became more erratic, the blush running down his whole body, and how his pores tightened before they started to spasm with pleasure. They tried to tighten this time as well, instead squeezing down on all the toys, making the sensations even harder to bear for much longer. SpongeBob sucked in his breath again and again, as if he were about to sneeze.

“YES!” With that exclamation, all the toys shot out of his pores at the same time. Squidward screamed and instinctively rolled off the bed, ducking away from the projectiles, lest he be shot right through his main heart by one of them. He saw his obituary flashing before his eyes. _‘He died doing what he loved; screaming as he got impaled by a huge rubber dildo.’_

After the last toy had dropped on the floor he heard an explosion. When he looked up, the sponge had disappeared, little yellow squares strewn across the room, candy and rainbow confetti raining down on him. A piece of candy hit Squidward on the head. He picked it up and looked at the label, which depicted a small rendering of SpongeBob winking and giving the thumbs up. It read _Sea Berry Flavor_. “Ugh!” He threw it past his shoulder; Squidward was allergic to sea berries.

In the meantime, the little yellow rhomboids had crawled into a pile on the bed and reformed into a naked SpongeBob lying on his back, breathing hard, exhausted. “You know you’re going to clean all that up, right?” Squidward said, looking at the chaos around them. He plucked two tissues from the box on his nightstand and cleaned up his seed which had landed on his stomach and thighs.

“Yes, Sir…” but SpongeBob was hardly conscious anymore. He lay his head on what looked like a butt made from jiggly rubber; one of the few toys Squidward owned shaped like the female anatomy. There was something exciting about the rippling sensation of sliding his suckers against the suckers inside a female octopus. Not exciting enough that he wanted to be with people other than his partner, though.

“You believe me now that these things are very satisfying?” He asked as he threw the crumpled tissues in the trash can next to his bed.

“Huh?” The sponge needed a moment to process the question. Then “Ah, yeah, yeah.” They were silent for a minute, SpongeBob still taking deep breaths.

Squidward spoke again, “You can think a little more highly of yourself, you know? I don’t need other mates. I like mating with you, Sponge.”

SpongeBob smiled, eyes closed. “Yeah? I like it, too.”

Squidward nodded. “So, there. I don’t need other mates,” he repeated for good measure.

“You still need more friends.” SpongeBob yawned.

That startled Squidward. SpongeBob wanted him to have more friends? Who, Squilliam? Is that what he was suggesting?

“Night, buttface,” Squidward said. He didn’t have the energy to argue about SpongeBob’s last statement. The sponge giggled, his sponge cheek nestling against the rubber cheek, but didn’t say anything more. He was already snoring.

The sponge slept with a smile on his face, like all was good in the world again. But Squidward still felt bad for what had happened today. He was alarmed with how close he got to slipping back into his old habits; he'd felt so at home in his fellow octopus' lap, been ready to forget all the horrible things in their past. And Squidward was so much happier now, without him, so why had he wanted to do this to himself?

Squidward tilted his head to look past his bed post and at his newest addition to his bedroom decor – the painting on the wall that said _Love Yourself More_. He still had to clean up the paint drips underneath it, and it was hanging at an angle, too. At the same time, he didn’t want to mess with that corner of the room, the lack of symmetry was part of the art piece in some way. “I’m trying,” he said to the painting. “I really am.”

Squilliam wasn’t a monster, or a kindly old man, or a hot jerk; he was just a sea creature with flaws and virtues struggling through life, just like Squidward, like SpongeBob, like everybody. And he clearly had issues, even if he claimed he was fine. _You don’t land in the hospital if you’re fine,_ Squidward thought.

 _‘So, tell me, how are you these days?’_ That’s what Squilliam had asked, before Squidward had shut him down angrily. That was a question you’d ask a friend. Squilliam had tried, but Squidward hadn’t wanted to hear it at the time. Then Squidward had kissed him, and Squilliam had subtly asked him to stop and sent him on his way, giving up on any chance of friendship. Squidward winced; he felt like the jerk now.

Squidward found his shell phone and looked up a number he hadn’t used in a long time. _I wonder if it still works, from all those years ago._ He opened the texting option. Their last conversation was still saved.

_We’ll be over in 5 minutes. Love, Squill_

That was from the time Squidward had pretended to own a fancy restaurant and Squilliam had brought over his friends. The ones who hadn’t bothered to visit him at the hospital. Squidward deleted the old messages before he started to write a new one.

_I’m sorry for your loss. Tell me about your dad._

Squidward stared at the message for a while. He added:

_If you want._

He then hit send. The message went through, it seemed. He lay the phone on his chest, screen down. Was this a good idea? He didn’t want there to be another ten years going by without talking. They’d been friends before – and only friends – as kids, they could at least try to do that again, right? But Squidward’s initial message was a bold move; Squilliam never talked to him about his father. Squidward heard his phone ding softly. He picked it up and read the text.

_Oh Squiddy, you just opened a whole can of nematodes. Very well._

Squidward watched the three dots on his phone that indicated Squilliam was in the process of writing. The dots remained on his screen for minutes. This was going to be a long, in-depth conversation. One that someone would have with a close friend.

 _Good,_ Squidward thought, and braced himself for the incoming message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a longer chapter, and basically the last one. Chapter 4 will be more of an epilogue.
> 
> Comment if you enjoyed it!


	4. Epilogue: Squilly's Still Silly

Squilliam talked with him for a long time, about his dad’s passing at first (it was a long time coming apparently and the funeral arrangements had been hard work; he could feel Squilliam’s exhaustion through the phone), but also about his ex-wife. They seemed to have ended things amicably, which to Squidward sounded bizarre. What would that look like, breaking up with Squilliam in a friendly way?

There was also a big concert coming up that he was conducting and was postponed now. _I read about that,_ Squidward said. He didn’t mention that he read it in the article that was about Squilliam’s hospital visit. His ex then talked about how he wanted to be released sooner rather than later so he could go back to preparing his orchestra. _Get well first and then worry about work,_ Squidward cautioned. That had always been a point of contention between him and Squilliam; despite surrounding himself with the finest things, the guy just wouldn’t take proper care of himself. Squidward remembered mornings waking up just to realize that his cephalopod lover had never joined him in bed, still hunched over his desk obsessing over his composition, eyes bloodshot and eyebrow ruffled, stubble on his cheek. He would look like that for days on end, no food or shower until his work was finished, hardly speaking two words to Squidward when he was in such a mood.

Squidward was the complete opposite, always had been, putting pleasure before work. He rarely got a bug up his butt about composing, and even then, he was prone to give up in the middle of it all. Maybe that’s why Squilliam was more successful than him. Squidward sighed; that was _definitely_ why. But was it worth it if he ended up overworked and sick? He had to get Squilliam into a spa one day.

Squidward had no grand artistic projects coming up, so he tried to think of his proudest achievement in recent time. He looked up from the phone at the snoring sponge at his feet.

He mentioned his relationship status to Squilliam. It was a huge mistake; the laugh-crying faces that Squilliam sent him when he mentioned SpongeBob were too many to count. _The little garcon who follows you around everywhere? That’s positively precious._

Squilliam then said he thought sponges were asexual; Squidward told him to keep his mind out of his partner’s pants. _Alright, alright, I didn’t mean to offend. I apologize._ That was a huge step up from their usual conversations; Squilliam never said sorry. They didn’t linger on the topic any longer, as Squilliam started to talk about his nurse and how enamored he was with her big frame.

 _She’s taken, you know._ Squidward had seen her come into the Krusty Krab with the guy who was always yelling about his leg, he forgot his name. They seemed very much in love, though he didn’t understand why any two lovers would spend time at their grimy grease trap. Unless they had to work there, of course.

 _Naturally. A woman that magnificent isn’t single for long._ When did Squilliam get into women? He even married one! Maybe all those years of Squilliam “jokingly” flirting with sea creatures of the opposite sex hadn’t been a joke at all.

 _Okay, that’s enough. Good night._ He snapped the clamshell shut and dropped it on his nightstand. He was tired and talking about girls was something he hadn’t been interested in since… he’d never been interested in that. Was that something normal that adult friends did, talk about women? Squidward contemplated asking SpongeBob, he was the friendship expert. He kicked Sponge’s misappropriated pillow lightly with his foot; it jiggled, and the sponge’s head with it. He didn’t wake up, though. _Just as well,_ he thought. He remembered the last time he confessed to SpongeBob that he was smitten with a lady; he ended up on an infuriating “practice date” with the sponge. Maybe he wasn’t the right guy to ask about normal things that normal friends did.

Squidward closed his eyes and dozed off. When he woke up it was dark outside. He peered at the clock on his wall; not even midnight yet. _Healthy sleep schedule, what is that?_ He heard the sound of a vacuum cleaner… but not his, which was odd. He turned around and saw SpongeBob, awake and dressed, breathing in with all his pores and making a hoovering sound as he did so. The confetti all across the room was sucked into his body. The toys were back in their boxes, thrown in haphazardly so that various tips were sticking out, like baguettes from a grocery bag. The sponge must’ve been on his way to clean them, like Squidward had ordered.

SpongeBob was holding one of the toys in his hands while cleaning up – the blue one which Squidward had used that morning. The sponge was kneading the suckers like it was a stress toy. Squidward was not unfamiliar with those hand movements, the sponge really liked to fiddle with his live mating arm in the same way.

“Gimme.” He outstretched his hand and SpongeBob, who had now noticed the octopus was awake, stopped vacuuming and reluctantly handed over the toy. He thought he was in trouble. Instead of admonishing the sponge, Squidward threw the toy across the room, the suction cup at the bottom attaching itself to the wall with a thud, the erect toy swinging back and forth.

“Huh?” The sponge walked over to the wall and put his hand on the mating arm. He pushed the tip down with his finger and released it with a _doioioioing_ , the hilt holding onto the wall, unmoving. “Oooooooh…” realization hit the sponge. He had just figured out why attaching it to a surface might be useful. He blushed.

“You can take that one home if you want.”

“Really!?” Squidward nodded; he had guessed correctly that the sponge’d had an eye on that toy. Squidward was happy to be rid of it. Too many memories.

“Thanks, Squidward!” And the sponge ripped it off the wall, a chunk of plaster coming off with it. “Hehe, whoops…”

Blue blood rushed to Squidward’s face in anger. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down; _this is why you have a bag of quick-plaster at home, Squidward. You want the good, you take the bad._ The good being companionship; the bad being the destruction that came with getting companionship from SpongeBob of all people.

“Just, be more careful when you use it at home.” Squidward didn’t want to have SpongeBob over every morning to shower with him because he cracked his own bathtub in half.

“Yes, Siree!” SpongeBob saluted and shoved the toy through a side pore into his body, for safekeeping, his eyes rolling to the back of his head only for a second as the fake suckers moved against his hole. “Ah!”

The fact that his friend didn’t mind storing something inside himself that had been inside Squidward before was kind of intimate. More so than sharing a shower. He couldn’t imagine handing over his toys to any other partner he’d had before.

“I’m going to clean these now, and then I’ll go home” SpongeBob said as he picked up the box.

“Oh no, you’re not. You’re doing that tomorrow and staying here. I got you breakfast Kelp Flakes, remember? Hop in,” Squidward ordered as he lifted the covers. SpongeBob happily obliged and dropped the box, jumping out of his shirt and pants and into bed.

“We have work tomorrow, so be quiet and go to bed.” Squidward wasn’t in a cuddling mood, but he didn’t want to be alone tonight, either. He tucked the sponge into bed next to him, close but not too close. SpongeBob looked up happily at the octopus who wrapped the blanket around him with firm tentacles. “I won’t wake up without my alarm,” the sponge warned.

“I’ll wake you up. Hang on.” Squidward plucked his shell phone off the nightstand to set an alarm. He saw the message Squilliam had sent him, right after his last text earlier; _Good night, you two._ And a winking face.

Squidward sighed. He shut the phone closed and the lights off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. Comment if you enjoyed it!


End file.
